


Not On The Menu

by Callisto



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-07
Updated: 2011-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisto/pseuds/Callisto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>And just like that, Doyle couldn’t hold out. Bodie always managed to do this, always managed to get under Doyle’s skin to the point of fist-swinging...and then made it all vanish with a lazy curl of his lips and just the right sparkle in his eyes. Annoying git to welcome companion in the space of an eye-blink, welcome to the mystery and wonder of one William Andrew Philip, thought Doyle. He huffed a sigh and gave up the pretence of reading the menu.</i></p><p><i>“You’re on. But if you make a mess, I don’t know you.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Not On The Menu

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Heliophile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heliophile/gifts).



> Thanks to Ancasta for the beta.

“Gonna show me how to do this are you, Doyle? You being the expert in all things Chinese now.”

Doyle looked up. Bodie’s manner seemed easy enough, but the tone was off, and had been for a while. Too sharp for either the occasion or the joke. The occasion being a stop-off for an actual sit-down Chinese on the way back to Doyle’s, the joke being yet another dig about Esther.

“Bodie...”

“What?”

What indeed. They weren’t joined at the hip. He had been undercover for fuck’s sake and Bodie-- _Bodie_ \--was the one who kept going on and on about keeping things light, no strings, pulling birds, etc, etc.

“Nothing. Look, mate, use chopsticks, a knife and fork, hell, use your fucking fingers for all I care. But just order, eat and let’s go, all right? It’s been a long bloody day.”

He fixed his eyes on the menu, studiously ignoring the look he could feel coming his way, and wished fervently that they’d decided on takeout instead. Much easier to ignore Bodie when he had a windscreen to stare out of.

“Fine. But I shall want a chopsticks lesson.”

And just like that, Doyle couldn’t hold out. Bodie always managed to do this, always managed to get under Doyle’s skin to the point of fist-swinging...and then made it all vanish with a lazy curl of his lips and just the right sparkle in his eyes. _Annoying git to welcome companion in the space of an eye-blink, welcome to the mystery and wonder of one William Andrew Philip_ , thought Doyle. He huffed a sigh and gave up the pretence of reading the menu.

“You’re on. But if you make a mess, I don’t know you.”

When the meal arrived, Doyle studied the thin pieces of wood in his hands.

“Look,” he began, “as far as I know, you put this bit on your thumb like this... and then you line the other one up between these two fingers and rest it between... No, just a sec, that can’t be right. Maybe, it’s these two fingers... yeah, these two. Try it, that looks a bit more like it. And then I suppose you line them up and use the top one, and just um...balance the...shit!”

“Like this you mean?”

With a crook of his fingers and the smooth click of chopstick on chopstick, Bodie readjusted his grip and deftly manoeuvred a small pile of fried rice up to his mouth.

“You...”

Another mouthful went up and in, as smoothly as the first. Although Bodie was in danger of choking on his own delight before he could swallow any of it down.

“...utter bastard,” finished Doyle, picking bits of rice off his lap and the table. “I’m an idiot. Of course you know how to use chopsticks. Probably had lessons in the jungle from Mao Tse bloody Tung himself.”

“Thailand, actually,” said Bodie when he’d finished chewing. “And her name was Lotus Blossom.”

“I’ll just bet it was.”

And then he was grinning back, not minding somehow that Bodie had got one over on him yet again, that he had rice everywhere except in his stomach, and that the only way he was likely to get anything to eat that night was to call the waiter over.

He kicked Bodie under the table to make sure he stayed quiet when he asked for his knife and fork back.

And then he kissed him so hard when he got him home that Bodie’s head thunked off the back of the front door.

“Wha—”

But Doyle was not about to let him get away. So he went for him again, mouth open and tongue instantly deep while he slid a hand around the back of Bodie’s neck to help keep him in place, together with a hard thigh planted between his legs just for the hell of it.

And then he smiled, right there on Bodie’s lips. “You taste of prawns,” he whispered. Bodie had insisted on lifting, holding - and in one supremely insufferable Bodie moment – fucking _twirling_ a king prawn before he ate it neatly off his chopsticks.

“Yeah?” Bodie whispered back, and then Bodie’s mouth was on his again, driving him back and off balance. In a second Bodie had him against the door and was noisily kissing and sucking along his jawline. Bodie’s right hand palmed him roughly through his jeans and he hissed in a breath and arched up. Fuck, nobody got to him like Bodie did. He’d been hard since the restaurant.

“What d’you want, Ray? Hmm? Want me to taste _you_?” Breathed into Doyle’s left ear, all he could do was shiver in response.

“I want...”

But Bodie was already gone, down on his knees on the hall carpet, hands busy with zips and buttons and briefs pushed aside and then... and then instant heat and wet suction hit Doyle just _so_ , and he could no more finish his sentence than he could remember what language to say it in. Bodie nipped at the crown, swirled his tongue up and down his entire length, and then Doyle just knew from the sound and the amazing, sudden _pull_ , that Bodie was hollowing out his cheeks for more.

Coherency, stamina, and oxygen to the brain all just disappeared in the wake of Hurricane Bodie. Doyle’s left hand found Bodie’s head just as Bodie’s right hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and it was Doyle’s turn to thunk his head back on the door. He gave himself over to the sensation and concentrated on just staying upright. He wobbled and his hand went out for balance. It found the outline of his own cock bulged in Bodie’s right cheek, and all bets were off. He bucked hard against the door, rattling the letterbox on its hinges. Once, twice... Bodie’s hands clamped across his hips to keep him in place as his cock pumped and scraped something soft - the back of Bodie’s throat no doubt. Just that random thought was enough, and Doyle squeezed his eyes shut as white light danced behind them and his orgasm pulsed out and out and out...

His heart, his eyes, and the thrum in his ears all came back to find Bodie back on his feet and pressing kisses along his jawline again. His mouth was gentler this time, more teasing, less urgent. Which was surprising seeing as how Doyle could feel Bodie’s stiff and unseen-to cock rubbing along his hip bone. He lifted Bodie’s face off his jaw and held it a few inches away from his own. Two spots of high colour flushed the pale skin on each cheek, and Bodie’s lips were spit-pink and full.

Doyle gave in and kissed him once, hard, tasting himself there and feeling an unbelievable twitch in his groin. He cleared his throat.

“That wasn’t what I wanted.”

Bodie arched an eyebrow at him, lips ready to curve.

Doyle held his face a little tighter. This was important and he was going to say this now, when he’d had his and Bodie was so keyed up he’d have no choice but to listen if he wanted Doyle’s hands and mouth to carry on.

“I mean, that wasn’t all that I wanted. Isn’t, I mean, all that I want.”

Jesus, it was like his brain left the building after sex.

Bodie was laughing a little. And doing that slow grind into his hips again.

Doyle bit his lip and pulled back as much as the door and a heat-seeking Bodie would allow. “Shut up and listen a minute, will you? I want... I want strings, Bodie.”

Bodie stopped grinding. A dint appeared between his eyebrows. “Strings?”

Doyle dropped his hands. He had Bodie’s full attention now. “Yes, strings. With you. I want this. All of this. I want you winding me up about chopsticks, sucking me off behind the front door, burning breakfast in the morning and giving me grief about using all the hot water. And shit, I want to be able to expect it, Bodie. Every single fucking day. No more birds, no more pratting around. Just... um, _this_. Strings, Bodie. With you.”

Now that he heard it, it sounded pathetic. Fuck, he should have tried all this before Bodie’d sucked his brains out, not after. Bodie was probably going to mock him for this from now until—

The kiss when it came was little more than a peck and took Doyle completely by surprise. Then Bodie flicked Doyle’s nose with his forefinger, making him blink. A lazy smile followed.

“Strings, eh?” Bodie’s voice was oddly quiet, his eyes everywhere on Doyle’s face.

Doyle swallowed hard and nodded. “Strings.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so? Strings it is, then.” Bodie took Doyle’s hand and brought their laced fingers down to press against his cock. Then his voice got throaty. “Yards and yards of the bloody stuff, sunshine. Scouts’ honour.”

Doyle couldn’t stop smiling. Trust Bodie to make _yes_ and _I do_ and _stay_ and _don’t go_ that fucking simple and easy.

Two could play at that game.

Doyle stepped up to bat with his version of simple and easy.

“Bedroom. Now.”

******


End file.
